


The Clock Ticks On

by Terrara



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Intrusive Thoughts, Other, and for violent thoughts, warnings for depression talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrara/pseuds/Terrara
Summary: Time moves on, but Seliph is still caught in the past, in the horrors of war and in the shadow of his father.This is just a short story where Seliph basically has an anxiety attack and the summoner finds him and tries to help him.





	The Clock Ticks On

The clocked ticked ever forward. It was what a clock did. How many ticks had gone by since you went to bed, Seliph wondered. His eyes felt as weary as his mind, but he could not sleep. How could he sleep, when his mind continued to attack him, showing him the memories of the battlefield.

He knew that he was in his room, safe at the desk upon which a small candle burned (he felt guilty using what resources the castle had, he could not bear to ask for anything larger even if the darkness only made his mental horrors stronger). He knew, but that did not change the feeling in his empty hands of his heavy blade, it did not change the vision in his head of the dead, their face shifting over and over and over. Sometimes an enemy, sometimes an ally, sometimes himself. He knew he was clean, but he could feel the blood upon his hands, could smell and taste that copper like sensation.

He sometimes wished it would never become night. It was in the darkness that his mind tortured him the most, taunting him with images that he wished he could leave behind. Sometimes he could see the expectant faces of the people,looking at him yet not see him. They saw his father, a blinding light that left Seliph in the dark shadow it cast, hidden from others. No one wants you, they want your father.

His head fell, his hands going to the sides to cover his ears and his eyes closing tightly, even though he knew it would do nothing to stop the nightmare.

Now his memories of the past came up, every choice he made that he ever regretted. Your father never had regrets. Your father never made mistakes. He grimaced in pain, feeling an all too familiar pain in his chest, climbing to his throat. His breathing became harder as he saw his father in his mind, saw him frowning with disdain, with disappointment. In his mind he cried out how he could become better, how could he become more like him, but of course his father would not answer. It was simply his imagination after all. He could only provide the answer if Seliph already had it.

His hands began to tremble as, in his mind, he saw himself begin to wield the blade, the one that grew heavier and heavier under his father’s gaze, under the responsibility and expectations that Seliph had been placed with. He bit his lip in life as, in his mind, he slayed his father, just like he had done who knows how many times before. It was not what he wanted to do, not what he ever do in any world or time, but the thoughts still plagued him, the sensations still came, unbidden, leaving a vile taste in his mouth as he wondered just how low he would sink, just how far would he end up from being even a fraction of the great man his father was.

He could not change his mind, knew that these thoughts were not really his in way, but that did not stop the disappointment and disgust in himself. If he had the strength, he would have let out a chuckle. Perhaps that was the only thing he would ever share with his father, disappointment in how Seliph turned out.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, his body shaking a moment. He turned his head to see you there, concern clear in your face.

“What happened?”

His eyes were wide, his expression likely looked as haunted as he felt. Yet still he tried to give a hollow smile, his hand going to brush yours away.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me, Summoner.”

His weariness disappeared a bit in the face of the slight worry he felt for you.

“I thought you went to bed? Were you unable to sleep? If you like, I can prepare something small that might help you relax.”

He began to stand, but you shook your head.

“You’re not fine.”

The edges of his lips quavered and he tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat.

“What do you mean, Summoner?”

You turned your head, nodding it and he looked in the direction to see, to his mortification, the hand that was meant to brush yours away was clenching it tightly, like a child clutching a stuffed animal. He quickly moved his hand away, apologizing profusely as in his mind he bashed himself. Why must you be such desperate trash? Why do you cling like that? It’s like you want to be seen as disgusting

“I-I’m so sorry!”

Yet again he tried to stand, to move away from you, but now both your hands were on his shoulders, looking him firmly in the eye.

“No apologies. And no one is fine when they’re crying in a dark place like this.”

He blinked, confused, before his hand came up and indeed, when his fingers moved across his cheek they became wet with tears. He let out a faint chuckle.

“My, I didn’t realize. How...silly of me...”

As he spoke, he became more and more choked up, his shoulders moving up and his face twisting as the tears began to fall harder, as if acknowledging them had broken whatever barrier had kept the rest back. Sobs began to wrack his body, his throat tightening up to where he could barely breathe, every breath sending pain through him.He began to double over, only vaguely aware as arms began to wrap around him, his face pressing against something soft and warm. His hands went to it as well, clutching it like a lifeline.

Some time passed. The clock ticked on, he did not know how many ticks until the tears had slowed to a stop, until his breath was ragged but not as painful. When he sat back, wiping away the muck from his eyes, he realized that he had been crying into your shirt, stains from his tears and snot clear.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was small and hoarse, his eyes dull as he looked down guiltily. You crouched down so that you could look up at him in his seat.

“No apologies. Now, do you feel better?”

He wearily nodded. While the weight was still there within his chest, it felt lighter than it had before, and now his mind was likely too tired to torture him anymore.

“You can talk to me if you want, or I can stay here quietly or even just go. What do you want to do?”

His gaze slowly moved to meet yours. He swallowed back his nerves and asked.

“Do you know of my father, Sigurd?”

You nodded.

“Yep, one of the other heroes.”

Seliph’s hands trembled as they clutched each other in his lap, but he forced himself to say the words.

“Do you think I am like my father?”

You looked up in thought for a few moments before shaking your head.

“Nope.”

Seliph felt himself falling into despair once more before he heard you continue.

“But are you supposed to be?”

He met your eyes again.

“...What do you mean?”

“Well, just because he’s your father doesn’t mean you have to be alike or anything, right? He’s his own person and you’re your own. It would be kinda weird if you two were alike, actually.”

You gestured at him.

“You’re Seliph. You’ve live a different life, had different experiences, went through different hardships, all to become who you are.”

Seliph felt a small hope beginning to kindle in his chest but he could not help arguing, his self-loathing refusing to just accept that it was okay to simply be Seliph.

“But what if I wanted to be more like my father? What if being me meant making mistake after mistake, unlike him?”

“But it’s good to make mistakes.”

You vaguely gestured with your hands, your head moving to each side.

“Well, I guess it’s not good, but it’s important to make them.”

You smiled at him.

“Mistakes mean you’re trying. If you never tried, then you would never fail, just as you would never succeed as well. To not know failure is to not know humility or empathy. If you always succeeded, think about how hard it would be to imagine what failing is like! You would never be able to be as kind as you are. Even if you make mistakes, it still shows you tried, and from those mistakes you can teach others how to not make those same mistakes as well as avoid them in the future. And even if you repeat them, you’re just helping to teach yourself even more as well! The best teaching involves repetition after all.”

Seliph took the words in, his tense body slowly easing. When he spoke, his voice was soft, yet the hope in it was clear.

“...Does that mean it’s alright if I am not my father?”

“Well yeah! You’re you, someone that no one other than Seliph can be. You have things about you that are unique, and whether you choose to help or hurt others or even do nothing, it’s all up to you. You choose the path you walk, no matter what others say.”

A smile ever so slowly came to his face, finally genuine.

“Thank you, Summoner.”

You nodded.

“Is there anything else you wanna talk about?”

“Perhaps another time.”

He was not yet ready to talk about his thoughts, not wanting to ruin the almost relaxed way he felt now. You nodded again before standing up.

“I was on my way to grab some late night treats before I heard you. Hopefully Gaius hasn’t done his nightly run yet.”

Your face twisted up, as if you were thinking of some bitter rival, and Seliph felt light amusement bubble up within him.

“Do you wanna come? We have this one cake in it that I always find amazing after a good cry.”

Seliph nodded.

“I would love to try some of it.”

He wiped off his face and began to stand, following after you. As he left his room, he noticed the ticking of the clock growing fainter, but he paid little mind to it. Time moved on and with every tick, he stepped ever slower out of the shadow that haunted him.


End file.
